One
by ukyoo
Summary: Extract from an RPG based in the time of the Founders. This is Jericho the morning before Alice (a muggle) came to live with his family.


**One**   
  
With a creak, my bedroom door was pushed open, but I wasn't ready to get up. Go away. No sound came from the hallway or the door, so it was safe to assume whoever was there, is no longer and left. Until the slight pressure of a light body sprang onto the edge of the bed. Oh no. A cold, wet, and curious nose pokes at my arm trying to find a place to cuddle into. I rolled away in a futile attempt to rid myself as a cuddle option. But she saw right through that and padded over my hips to curl against my stomach instead. Lord, do I hate that cat. Hate, in the sense that I love her to pieces, but she furs up all my dark clothes, so there's the odd case when she's found herself hurled across the room.   
  
"Jeri! Come on downstairs, your breakfast has been on the table for ten minutes! It's getting cold."   
  
That was my mother, and that was the third time that she'd called me down for breakfast. I was thinking I might stay in bed though. It's nice there; the blinds on the bay window on the south wall across from my bed were open, I rarely close them, and it was late enough into winter that the sun could reach across the room to warm Lexis and I. (That's the hellcat's name. Nathaniel named her, he has a thing for abbreviations. He even referred to himself as " 'Thaniel ", in the third person. I'm not even going to _mention_ the period when he was five when he called me 'Rico. All I _will_ say is that was the one time I truley beat the crap out of him.) He's a little freak. I tell him that occasionally, but he doesn't hear me; I mumble sometimes and he has selective hearing. We're a great pair, us two. Right. And there he came. I could tell it was him coming because he has this bad habit of wearing my boots instead of his own, which are much to big for him and he's making a hell of a racket clumping up the stairs. He pushed my door open and ran across the room. God, he was noisy. If he had woken me up instead of 'Lexis, I would have been so grumpy for the rest of the day, completely silent and generally antisocial. So he ran across the room and jumped, practically flew onto my bed to land behind me. Thankfully, because my boots were so big on him, they fell off his feet as his jumped so the muck and whatnot the soles were covered with stayed off my sheets.   
  
"Mum sent 'Thaniel to bother you awake, so here we's is." I bet he's grinning like an idiot again. His English is horrible, hopefully that's intentional. It also reminds me of an old story, but I don't say so. I don't talk much anyway. As a matter of fact, I never was very talkative, but now especially not because my voice has started to change. Whenever I speak nowadays, my voice cracks and Mother makes some embarrassing comment about "her little Jericho is growing up so quickly."   
  
Notice how I'm not answering " 'Thaniel", I bet that bothers him to no end. He pokes my back. "Mum said now."   
  
She said 'now' ten minutes ago. What does it matter?   
  
"The Richards are coming today. Mum wants you fed and Dad wants you to help him ready the Team."   
  
The Richards are a family of Muggles. Mother and Dad decided to take them in when they immigrated here from Lower England. They don't know we're a wizarding family; they think we're extreemly wealthy or something equally preposterous. The couple, Markus and Louise, they have a couple of children, Richard (they call him Dick, so not to be cruel. Richard Richards? I mean, come on.), who is seventeen and won't be staying here long: a month or so, and their daughter Alice. She's pretty enough, I suppose. Perhaps a little quiet, but who am I to be complaining about taciturnity?   
  
He pokes me again. "Come on, Jeri. She was already turning red when we left the kitchen, she has to be purple about now. C'mon, get up."   
  
Why not? Pardon me, darling. I scratch at 'Lexis' stomach which wakes her up. So I sit up and scooch myself out of bed.   
  
I hear Nathaniel say, "How can you sleep like that? Doesn't it get cold?" Hn. I've taken up sleeping shirtless lately. He can't stand it. My little brother has issues with keeping warm. I don't know, I find it comfortable. All the shirts I wear now are old hand-me-downs from Dad. He says I'll get my own when I stop growing. A couple weeks back, I couldn't bit-train one of the three-year olds because my shoulders had started growing again and they _hurt_.   
  
So I pulled on one of Dad's shirts which fits like a tent, but I belt up fresh trousers and tuck in the shirt so it's not too awkward. Despite getting up, dressing, and listening to 'Thaniel's one-sided conversation, I am not yet awake.   
  
Breakfast is nothing special. Mother feels compelled to offer me more food than should be allowed, and makes yet another comment that I should cut my hair. "Even your brother's growing his out--"   
  
"--But we are, Mum. It's--"   
  
"--Don't interrupt, Nathaniel. Jericho, I know it's going to be different around here with the Richards, but you don't have to change your appearance to make them think you're a Muggle too..." That's not what I was doing, but damn. I must have rolled my eyes as I tied my hair back 'cause-- "Don't roll your eyes at me, young man. I am serious. If you can't talk you father to taking the shears to you, then I will." With that she dumped a last spoonfull of porridge into my bowl and left for the kitchen to vent. Of course she didn't actually mean to take a pair of shears to me, that's only an expression, we use the Severing Charm, we're not _heathens_. I'd heard my parents say the charm "Abscidio" time and time again, how hard could it be? Now only was the matter of finding a wand...   
  
Later in the morning after grooming the large Strawberry and Blue Roans, I found myself with time to spare before we would be leaving to pick up the Richards. I also found Father's wand in the tack room (his "hiding place", apparently.).   
  
In short, I messed up. Pretty bad too. Laying in clumps and sad-looking long strands was the greater portion of my hair. My reflection in the water barrel told me that I had a bare inch and-a-half of hair sticking out in all directions. It was sad.   
  
That was my first hands-on experience using magic. That June both Nathaniel (who was calling himself Nat and no longer speaking in the third person) and I received our Hogwarts letters. 


End file.
